That’s Jane on the left; Faramir on the right. They play doubles together, you know.
What do you think they’re whispering?
Jane: So do you see him? Is he looking at me? Is he?
Faramir: Who?
Jane: What do you mean “who”? Mr. Rochester, duh.
Faramir: Oh, for God’s sake. Are you still hung up on him?
Jane: He’s hot.
Faramir: He’s old. And blind. If he’s even here, he can’t see you, idiot.
Jane: He could call out to me. I’d hear him.
Faramir: Yeah, well, he better not do it when I’m trying to serve. Huh-uh. I’ll kill him. Stupid old fart.
Jane: You’re such a bitch.
Faramir: Whatevs. Look. You haven’t even noticed my hot new outfit.
Jane: It’s okay.
Faramir: “Okay”?? You’re mental. I designed it. It’s hot.
Jane: Fine. It’s hot, okay? Look. The judge is giving us the stinkeye. Serve the ball, Fary.
Faramir: Girl, I’m tired. Where’s my sword?
Faramir: Whatevs.
That killed me!
There has to be a “whatevs”!